


Am I Rightside up or Upside Down

by Buffy (BuffyScribbles)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amnesia, Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, Car Accidents, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Falling In Love Again, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, flashback sequences, its about their journey back to eachother, just lots of angst really, unrealistic circumstances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuffyScribbles/pseuds/Buffy
Summary: Steve and Bucky have been married for three years when a car accident sends Bucky into a coma. After six weeks, his amnesia has him living in a rehabilitation center. Finally, Steve gets to take him home, even though Bucky has no memory of their life together.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to chicklette for beta and cheering me on. Couldn't do this without you! :D
> 
> PLEASE NOTE where the amnesia is concerned, I have done no research. I plan to do some to make the rest of the fic relatively believable and to give myself ideas, but if you’re expecting this to follow any particular trope or real medicine, it won’t. This is a story about falling in love, not medical syndromes. Also, any resemblance to movies like “The Vow” is completely on accident except _for_ the accident. So, suspension of belief. Thanks, I hope you enjoy. :)

It always smelled like roses here, Steve mused as he waited for Bucky to join him in the common room. There were other visitors spread throughout the large room, full of arm chairs and couches, but Steve didn’t see Bucky yet. This time he’d brought a bag of plums; ironically they were supposedly good for memory, but mainly they’d always been his husband’s favorite. Steve didn’t always do it, but he often brought Bucky something Steve knew he liked, whether it was food or something he could self soothe with. It was about fifty-fifty as to whether or not Bucky still enjoyed whatever it was that trip.

Steve’s hands were damp, nervous as he always was. He never knew which Bucky he’d be speaking to. His husband had been through quite a lot since the accident. Sometimes he would remember pieces of their lives over twenty years, sometimes he would have no idea who Steve was. It seemed to be completely luck of the draw. Still, Steve was steadfast. He’d been told that there was precedent for healing, but that didn’t make his heart ache any less when Bucky would introduce himself. Steve could still make out the tan line on his husband’s ring finger when Bucky offered his hand to shake.

“Steve?” Turning at the sound of his name, his eyes widened slightly. There was Bucky, wrapped in an oversized grey cardigan and pale blue scrubs, eyes hot and red. 

Steve’s initial instinct had always been to comfort Bucky, of course, but in this state it was hard to tell how that would be received. Once upon a time it was like second nature.

_“Get out of here, stop,” Steve cried, pulling the much larger boy from the one crumpled on the ground._

_He chased off Matt and Brian, the local bullies, a rarity for him. When he turned to see who they’d been kicking, he saw the new kid...what was his name? Bucky, right. He was curled around his middle and groaning._

_“Hey are you okay,” Steve asked through two missing front teeth. No response, just another groan. He stooped down next to Bucky and placed his hand against his arm. “Bucky its okay, they’re gone.”_

_“They’re...you know my name?” Bucky cracked open an eye. Steve’s hand rubbed up and down his forearm._

_“Yeah, I do, we’re in the same class. I’m Steve Rogers,” he explained, eyebrows inching up, ending on a question. When Bucky didn’t respond, Steve stood and offered his hand. “C’mon, the ground’s gross,” Steve pointed out with a hopeful expression as Bucky carefully straightened himself out. He took his hand._

_“Thanks,” said Bucky, and Steve grinned ear to ear._

_“You’re welcome.” They were still holding hands._

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, nibbling on his bottom lip anxiously. He couldn’t help it, Steve had no poker face, and it was always a little bit nerve wracking. Would Bucky remember his own name? Would he remember them? He hadn’t, yet, not...really. His body remembered Steve. They’d walk down the hall together and Bucky would easily fall into stride beside him, equals ready to take on the world. Be it middle school, puberty, girls (and boys), college, or marriage, they’d stood against everything together since the first time they’d touched.

“I know, silly,” Bucky smiled, and it was that coy little expression that always used to drive Steve up the damned wall. 

“Uh-huh, I can see that.” Licking his lips, Steve put his hands on his hips and heaved a sigh. “Do you know who I am, Bucky?” The man in question opened his mouth, eyes alight, and Steve interrupted before Bucky could be a smart ass. “Besides Steve.”

This time a shadow fell over Bucky’s face. He toed at the carpet. “No,” he trailed off, looking up at Steve from under long lashes. Steve nearly groaned.

“Yes you do,” Steve teased, taking a step forward. It was usually a good tell. Bucky stayed still and even though he smiled, it ghosted over his lips. 

“I know you like two sugars and no milk in your coffee. I know you try too hard, 100% of the time.” Bucky visibly swallowed. “I know you’re...they tell me you’re my husband.”

Steve kept his most patient and understanding expression on his face. “But…” he prompted.

“But I don’t believe them. I mean, if I were married, if I were...in love, wouldn’t I know it?”

Every time it was like a punch to the gut. Every single time. One thing that hadn’t changed since the accident was that Bucky refused the fact that he was his husband, and didn’t seem to think he was in love. The nurses took bets. Steve knew it was coming, but still, god did it hurt.

“Don’t worry about it Buck. I keep coming, don’t I?” Steve offered a hopeful smile, that same smile Bucky’d prompted when they met as children. By now, he was used to tacit dismissal.

“Don’t ask me _why_ , but...yeah, you do.”

Bucky thanked Steve for the plums and retreated to his rooms. He watched, his husband, his best friend, his whole world, until Bucky turned a corner out of sight. After all this time and tragedy, Steve could still get those butterflies. 

_They were twelve, a little early to be thinking about such things, but that didn’t stop Steve from pressing his lips to Bucky’s._

_The panic set in when he shifted back on his swing. “I’m sorry, Buck I’m--”_

_Steve was cut off by a sudden kiss. Bucky had moved_ his _swing to reach him, cupping the back of Steve’s neck and smushing their lips together._

_“I like you too, Stevie.”_

On the way out of the facility, Steve was stopped by Dr. Banner, who’d been working Bucky’s case since the accident.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes,” Steve stopped in his tracks and turned, smiling genially at the doctor.

“Dr. Banner,” he stuck his hand out to shake.

“Can you come to my office? Sorry I know this is last minute,” Dr. Banner said, shaking Steve’s hand. 

“Yeah, of course, sure,” Steve responded even as he was led through a set of double doors and into Dr. Banner’s office.

“I’ll make this quick,” the doctor said, not even bothering to sit behind his desk, rather leaning against it. “Bucky’s shown phenomenal progress, we both know that. It's a miracle he ever came out of his coma, frankly.”

At that Steve nodded, swallowing hard as the emotions flooded through him, unbidden.

_It had happened so fast. Bucky was just about to fasten his seat belt when they were plowed into from behind._

_Bucky went flying through the windshield, skidding to a stop in the middle of the deserted intersection._

_It was 1:07 am. By 1:10, EMT’s had shown up._

_There was blood. Steve doesn’t remember peeling out of the car and scrambling to Bucky’s prone body but he did it. “Buck, Buck, oh god,” Steve’s hands went to a hip and a shoulder, distantly remembering not to jostle him in case of a head injury._

_Two weeks in a coma, more MRIs than Steve could count, and by the time Bucky woke up, Steve was prepared as he could be for his husband not recognizing him._

_It didn’t make it sting any less when Bucky recoiled from his touch._

“Bucky’s getting discharged next week.”

Steve blinked, and then, his eyes widened. “Next week?” The doctor nodded. “He gets to come home?”

Dr. Banner hesitated.

“Yes, but you...Steve you need to be prepared for this. He might never truly understand who you are. He might never love you again. He doesn’t know you.”

Steve licked his lips, swallowed hard, and looked Dr. Banner in the eye. “He will.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's first day at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first foray into long fic, please bear with me. Many thanks to ShipsAndSparrows for the beta. She'll be coming on as a co-writer starting next chapter. Please enjoy!

The rehabilitation center that had been helping Bucky regain brain function and improve his coordination was only a short drive from their house. It had been six weeks since the accident, a month of rehab. Steve had gotten a phone call from the center shortly after he had left the facility the day before; a kind nurse named Kim had given him a run down of Bucky’s current condition. Kim said his memories were still fuzzy, but he had glimpses of various friends and family members, including Steve. She said he had described them as watching an old newsreel, but he had said it felt as if the memory didn’t belong to him. But then again, even his name (or any version thereof) didn’t feel like it was his. 

None of what he did remember was recent, either; memories of fighting in the schoolyard with the class bully, falling out of the big oak tree they’d taken twenty minutes to climb, and a few of summer sleepovers on the couch cushions in front of the t.v. Steve remembered each kiss that went with each of those memories. Bucky did not. In any case, the status quo hadn’t changed much. Bucky didn’t remember anything about his best friend, Natasha, his family wasn’t much better than his recollections of Steve, and it simply didn’t seem like it would ever get better than this, despite what they were told.

His coma was two weeks long, and scans had been able to show what had happened. Traumatic brain injury, almost certain amnesia, and damage to his fine motor skills. Amnesia almost always cleared up, but the medical professionals were a little surprised it wasn’t improving more quickly. On top of that was the brain damage from how he was ejected from the car, and the resulting depression and anxiety that it had triggered. Bucky would likely have trouble with walking and moving, and only upon waking would they know for sure how much the brain damage was going to affect him.

As soon as possible, Bucky had started physical therapy. His walking was reminiscent of someone who’d had a little too much to drink, and his hand tremors were significant enough he couldn’t hold a pen. They referred him to the rehabilitation center, and Bucky had been able to regain his walking capabilities. The tremors improved somewhat, but still had a negative impact on his quality of life.

Nurse Kim explained that some of his physical symptoms persisted due to the brain damage. He would get tremors in his hands on occasion, he would repeat a question a few times, not realizing he’d just asked it, or go catatonic. There was a bevy of explanations for all of it. Steve listened carefully and asked questions, mostly pertaining to what he should do. Nurse Kim recommended taking it slow.

“Remember Steve, to him his whole life has been about his illnesses, about what was wrong with him since the accident, even though he’s starting to remember some things. Now he has a chance to have a life, to move beyond that, but there’s going to be resistence. Don’t push him too much, especially Bucky, because he’ll push himself until he hurts himself, okay?” She wasn’t reassuring, but that wasn’t her job.

“Absolutely, follow his lead. Got it.” Steve asked her a few more questions before the call ended. Bucky was used to structure and routine. Looking after him during this transition was going to be a challenge, sure, but Steve was...relieved. Bucky seemed to like him well enough, but was clearly still wary of him. Frankly, the cracks in Steve’s heart weren’t spreading anymore, like they should. He was tired and he missed his husband. 

They rode the short way home in companionable silence. Steve was focusing on making sure Bucky felt safe and comfortable, so he was trying to avoid over thinking things and reminding himself that Bucky was a whole new person, even though he’d agreed to live with Steve. Sam and Natasha were always quick to remind him that he this Bucky didn’t know him, that he didn’t remember shoving cake in each others face on their wedding day or talking about their future family. For Steve Barnes, that had been a tough pill to swallow.

Even so, Steve knew if there was such a thing as soulmates, they were it. No matter what happened, no matter what lifetime or universe, they would always find their way back to each other . It was a belief that had kept Steve going since the accident; no matter how hopeless it felt at times. 

“We’re here,” Steve announced with a cautiously optimistic smile. “Do you-”

“No, I don’t really remember, Steve,” Bucky answered tiredly. Steve winced; he was screwing up already.

“That’s alright, Buck, no big deal,” he assured, biting his lip.

_“Stevie its perfect. It’s brick and it's got enough bedrooms, a big backyard,” Bucky trailed off, giving his husband his best puppy dog eyes. “We could redo the attic for your studio, I can have an office.” Steve laughed. It was fall, and Bucky was bundled up in his favorite navy pea coat and grey scarf. He was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen._

_“Alright alright, we can put in an offer, but_ don’t _get your hopes up, okay? A place like this has got to have a lot of interest and --” Steve was cut off by lips against his own. He laughed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders._

_“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, I love you Steven Grant Barnes I love you so much,” Bucky laughed and spoke between kisses, and the way he slid his hands down to the small of Steve’s back absolutely made him melt._

_“I love you too, Buck. Always.”_

Bucky looked tired but gave Steve a quizzical look. “What’s wrong,” he asked.

Steve shook his head, braving a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, which caused Bucky’s frown to deepen. Steven didn't respond, just got out of the car and grabbed Bucky’s bags from the trunk. 

Once inside, he watched as Bucky surveyed the place. Steve closed the door gently, eyes on Bucky as he set his bags down and looked around. They were in the foyer, white tile beneath their feet and a life Bucky couldn’t remember plastered on the walls in picture after picture. Steve and Bucky slow dancing at their wedding reception, a picture of Bucky swimming with the dolphins in Cabo on their honeymoon, the couple with their family of friends. Steve barely glanced at them, but Bucky stopped to look. 

“This barely even looks like me,” he whispered, so quiet Steve almost didn’t catch what he’d said. There was an odd look on Bucky’s face, distinct.The scent of paints and baking bread that smelled so distinctly of home had him overwhelmed. “It smells like I’ve...been here before. I wasn’t expecting that.” Steve bit his bottom lip when Bucky looked his way. “I think I need to lay down,” he said at length.

“Oh, of course ba-- Bucky,” Steve caught himself just in time. Doctors had told him to let Bucky set the pace, and if he wouldn’t call a ‘friend’ babe, he shouldn’t do that to Bucky. Additionally, it might be too confusing for him. 

One of the first things they’d discussed was sleeping arrangements. Unsurprisingly, Bucky didn’t want to sleep in the master bedroom with Steve, so Steve set up one of the two guest bedrooms for him. His tears were stoic as he erased everything that was Bucky out of their quiet corner bedroom, placing his husband’s wardrobe in the closet down the hall. His variety of colognes and his collection of stuffed frogs. Bucky’s straight razor made it into the guest bathroom, along with his magazine collection that resided on top of the toilet. His pillows and his favorite throw blanket all migrated. When it was done, he stood in the room, fingering the wedding band that Bucky had handed to him the week before.

_“Steve...I trust you. I believe you. I have enough memories of you to know that you love me. But I’m not there yet.” Bucky swallowed thickly and handed his wedding set to him. “I’m not sure what you want to do with them but...they’re yours. Not mine.”_

_Bucky had been at the facility for a month when he’d rejected his marriage. Steve had taken it as best he could, but the moment he was back in his car, clutching the rings, he broke down for the first time since Bucky had woken up._

Steve asked if Bucky needed anything, and Bucky simply shook his head. “No, I’m alright. Just tired,” he reiterated. Steve got the message and nodded.

“Yeah, sorry, let’s get you upstairs then okay,” Steve said, noticing the way Bucky’s hands shook as he leaned down to grasp his bags. 

Bucky looked at Steve expectantly. “Where are the stairs,” he asked, and Steve suddenly felt as though there was just no way to prepare for this being their life now. It stupidly, very stupidly, hadn’t entirely connected for Steve that Bucky would have no clue what he was doing. From Bucky’s side, it had to have been just like he’d never been in the house before.

And he hadn’t. This wasn’t his husband, Bucky, this was his friend, Bucky. The implications of all that were something he knew he never would’ve grasped without this experience, of Bucky not knowing where the stairs in his own house were. 

“Right this way, Buck,” he said, bringing him through the foyer and in past the living room to the staircase. They headed up, Steve murmuring an awkward ‘sorry’ as he brushed past his _friend_ Bucky so he could lead him down the hall to his room.

Steve watched Bucky set the bags down on the floor and start to look around. The frogs were the most obvious thing in the room. Decorated as though it came from a magazine, it was a terribly impersonal space. Except for the frogs.

“What are these,” Bucky asked, bemused. Steve’s heart skipped a beat as Bucky reached for the frog that was holding the red cartoon heart. It was his favorite, one Steve had gotten for a Valentine’s Day. He couldn’t _help_ but read into the selection.

“Yours. They’re yours. You um, you used to collect them,” Steve explained softly. A smile quirked his lips as Bucky’s expression turned slightly playful.

“Let me guess, you couldn’t bear to dump them, right,” This time Bucky laughed.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking up. The sound of Bucky’s laugh fluttered through him. “No, I couldn’t, of course not. They’re yours,” Steve said without much thought.

He didn’t like the look on Bucky’s face. Despite everything, Steve always had Bucky, even if he had nothing else. He knew what those looks meant. This one had always been reserved for ‘sit down I need to talk to you’. Never good.

“Steve…” This time Bucky sat; Steve stayed where he was, growing uncomfortable. His shoulder tensed and he rubbed his hand over his forearm. “This is going to suck, for both of us, but I don’t want to feel like we’re walking on eggshells around each other,” Bucky continued. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to react, or not react, to things that come up. I can’t trust my own mind anymore, it makes me nervous what could get triggered up here,” Bucky tapped at his temple, “But I know I can trust you. I know you...you care about me more than my own folks.” Bucky visibly swallowed, and Steve was pretty sure this was the most he’d spoken to him at one time since before the accident. “Plus, legally, you’re my next of kin, all my...stuff is here.” He trailed off and catalogued the room. 

“But you need space, right?” Steve was guessing, but that sounded like where his...where Bucky was going with it. The man in question nodded.

“I need space. I need patience . I need...to figure my life out.” Bucky thinned his lips, pinning Steve with an intense gaze. Steve took it, nodding. Before Bucky was his husband, he was his best friend. Steve was going to be that best friend as long as Bucky needed it, no matter what.

“We can...figure out where I fit into that later,” Steve asked. Bucky just nodded tiredly, and Steve instantly felt guilty and selfish for his question.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s...I don’t want to take advantage of you but you’re my...friend. And I know I need the support.”

Bucky’s words had an air of finality to them, but Steve smiled softly. “I’ll support you in any way I can, in any capacity, okay? Unconditional support.”

One of those true Bucky Barnes smiles spread over his lips and Steve felt bowled over. This was going to turn his world inside out. To have Bucky home, but unable to share emotional or physical intimacy was just about torture.

“Okay good. Yeah, thanks, I really...thank you, Steve.” Bucky smiled and started working on getting unpacked.

“You’re welcome, Buck,” he said, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet for a moment. “Hey, so I was going to make meatloaf for dinner.”

Bucky continued unpacking, his back to Steve. “I don’t like meatloaf...did I used to?”

Steve didn’t think this was the type of thing he was going to get used to. All his knowledge about Bucky Barnes, the love of his fucking life, may as well get chucked out the window.

“Oh um, yes, you did. It...was your favorite.” Was. As though his husband had never woken from that coma. In a way, he never did. Sure, there were similarities, like the way Bucky fussed with his hair, or that distinct smile, but overall it was safe to say his husband wasn't here. Steve straightened, and pressed the thoughts aside. “What would you like instead,” he asked.

Bucky paused a moment in what he was doing, and turned. He was holding some clothes in his hands, gesturing at Steve to move out of his way. “Cheese pizza. We’d get it ordered for us on fridays. I didn’t like any of the toppings ever, though. I tried just about every topping though...too intense for my tastebuds. Doctor says it could be from the brain damage.”

“Pizza it is then,” Steve said with a light smile. He paused a few seconds before pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to um, go call in that delivery. Get out of your hair,” his voice wavered, barely. If Bucky caught it, he gave no indication as he put clothes away in the dresser.

“Okay,” Bucky replied, unpacking. Steve nodded to himself, hoping his expression wasn’t as forlorn as it felt. Not that it mattered Bucky wasn’t looking at him. He exited, closing the door behind him.

“Oh fuck, this is going to hurt.” Steve dropped his head forward and took a deep breath before letting it out, sliding both hands through his hair. 

\--

It was going to take the pizza an hour to get there, which was fine; Bucky had said he was going to lay down. As soon as Steve hung up the phone, the tears came. Elbows on his knees, face in his hands, he finally sobbed like he’d needed to for way too long.

Bucky was never going to be the same. Everything he knew about his husband was gone. He barely even knew Steve. 

It felt like ice water being poured through his veins, his stomach twisting harshly. “Buck, oh god, Buck,” he whined to himself between tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” 

After about ten minutes, Steve collected himself and was washing his face in the powder room off the kitchen, his movements mechanical. Bucky was still laying down, or probably even napping, so Steve didn’t want to turn on the T.V. Instead he picked up a book and settled on the couch, waiting.

Fortunately the book was engaging. Steve was able to recharge and recoup a little bit. This experience was going to be stressful for him, not just Bucky, and his therapist had been reminding him to make sure he was taking care of himself first. 

He worked hard on that. It didn’t come naturally to Steve, who would sooner lay down on the wire himself than think of his own needs first. Bucky always said he loved how gentlemanly he was, but Steve knew it for what it was; poor self worth and a need to take care of everyone else first. 

“Whatcha reading?” Steve had gotten so used to the quiet of the house that Bucky’s voice made him jump.. Steve looked over to the doorway leading into the living room and saw Bucky leaning against the doorjamb on one shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Sidhartha,” he answered, flashing Bucky the cover. Bucky smiled and pushed off the wood, coming closer, hovering. 

“The more I get to know you, the less surprised I am in things like your choice in reading material.” Bucky gave him a friendly smile and nodded in the direction of his book. Steve was pretty sure his heart had crumbled. 

“Yeah, um, it's a good read,” Steve said, more to fill the silence and to distract himself from the ache in his chest than anything else.

Bucky shook his head playfully and considered Steve for a few moments; Steve was almost ready to say something by the time Bucky spoke again. “I’m remembering being little more,” he started, clearly reserved. Steve gently set his book aside.

“Oh yeah?”

Bucky nodded, shoulders relaxing visibly. “Yeah, um, nothing too specific. School, mostly, and how tiny you were.” Steve smiled and laughed, which made Bucky laugh, sliding his hands into his back pockets. “I think that’s part of my problem, its hard to connect little you with big you,” Bucky teased. 

Steve could’ve died happy in that moment. Bucky was smiling around him, at ease. He couldn’t help but speculate that perhaps a little time to himself and making his own space was making a difference. “Yeah, I had a lot of health problems, and puberty did a number on me. Came out the other side healthier and, uh, hale, so that’s a plus.”

Bucky nodded, still smiling easily when there was a startling knock at the door. He frowned and looked at Steve. “Are you expecting anyone,” he asked, and god it was the little things. Not _we_ , but _you_.

“Pizza,” Steve explained with the best smile he could summon at the moment. He retrieved it and paid. 

“Oh, wow, this is awesome,” Bucky said as Steve walked passed him with their dinner. 

“Yeah? Your favorite pizza place,” he said without thinking. Fortunately, Bucky just followed him over to the dining room table, half of which was littered with bills and paperwork, and an old Macbook.

“Yeah? Then it must be good,” Bucky said. When Steve looked up from opening the pizza box, Bucky was staring at the pizza intently, like it might hold all of life’s answers.

“Buck?” Steve’s prompting was as gentle as possible and Bucky shook his head. 

“Sorry, it just...the smell. It...I know that smell.” Steve slowly stood up straight from where he’d been slightly bent over the table.

“Yeah? That’s good. The doctor told me that scent is the strongest sense linked to memory,” he ventured. Bucky nodded slowly, accepting the explanation.

“I was told that too,” Bucky said, his body language obviously wary. Steve couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have your brain put in a blender like Bucky’s had been.

“Hey, its okay, its a good thing right? Something familiar,” Steve offered, wanting to be supportive. Bucky just shook his head, that tired, deflated look crossing his face again. Steve was beginning to loathe the expression.

“I don’t have familiar anymore, Steve. Not really.” The first floor of the house was an open plan, so Bucky just headed towards the kitchen, clearly in search of a plate. Steve sighed to himself, picked out a slice and simply ate it where he stood.

“Steve that’s foul, you should use a plate,” Bucky said without thinking, getting a plate for Steve. The words and the action were so _Bucky_ that Steve froze. No, this was real, Steve reminded himself, Bucky’s brain damage and amnesia were real. 

The doctor told him to expect moments like this, when he would seem ‘normal’, for lack of a better word. Even though he knew it could happen, Steve wasn’t prepared. The natural expectation was a smile and a kiss. 

Neither of those were coming.

“Sorry, you’re right,” Steve put on a placid face and took the plate when Bucky handed it to him. Steve made eye contact with him, but before long he simply got lost in steel blue.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted, flushing hotly and rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling. “I just mean--”

“It's okay, Steve.” Bucky even laid his hand on Steve’s arm. “Thank you, that was...thanks. Nice to hear.” He gave Steve an understanding smile, awkward moment over.

Steve needed to figure out some sort of escape plan before the dinner conversation killed him somehow. “Want to watch Star Wars?”

“Sure.” A beat. “What’s Star Wars?”

\-------------------

They were halfway through Empire, and Steve wasn’t entirely sure if this was the best night of his life, or some kind of sick joke being played on him.

It was just like any normal day. They had found a comfortable rate of conversation, he’d even made Bucky laugh a few times pointing out plot holes and the like. But there was something missing, lacking.

Bucky looked at him, and all he saw was his friend, a resource, a stepping stone. And Steve knew that’s how this could end, he _knew_ it. Steve’s therapist had been saying for weeks that Bucky might get his bearings and strike out on his own, instead of stay in a marriage he either didn’t remember or didn’t think was appropriate. Worse, the therapist counselled that might even be advice Bucky was getting.

Bucky wasn’t in love with him. 

Bucky didn’t have any feelings for him that weren’t platonic, and as much as it was a dead horse, Steve couldn’t stop beating it. They’d always been Steve and Bucky. On the playground, on the battlefield that was high school, and on into college and marriage. It was like there was a pod person sitting on the couch with him.

“Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve trusted yoda,” Steve said, picking cold popcorn out of the bowl between them. Bucky nodded in agreement.

“Creepy green dude eating all my food? Not a chance,” Bucky responded, eyes glued to the screen. 

Steve knew it was way too early to feel like his heart was getting snapped in half. Bucky used to love Star Wars movie nights, and while it’s not like he was hating it now, boy was it different from what Steve was accustomed to.

_“I love this, this is my favorite part,” Bucky insisted, throwing his arms around Steve’s neck, and his legs across his thighs._

_“Uh-huh, you say that everytime, doll face,” Steve laughed, patting Bucky’s thigh. He kissed his husband’s nose when it scrunched up._

Bucky was curled up, legs up under him, riveted by the movie. “Sorry,” he started. “I’m not used to getting to watch something that’s actually interesting.” Bucky laughed, eyes crinkling. Steve’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm,” Bucky hummed, tossing some popcorn into his mouth. He looked over at Steve, making deliberate eye contact, which Steve didn’t think he’d tried since getting...home.

“Used to be stuck with what little Esther wanted to watch, which was almost always QVC,” Bucky explained, laughing. His tongue swept over his bottom lip before he looked back at the television. 

“Um.” Steve didn’t know what he was doing. _Fuck I love you_ wasn’t something he could say. “Want some ice cream,” he finally asked instead.

Bucky had dragged the throw blanket over him, the grey bringing out that shade in his eyes. Steve was so fucked and he knew it. “Sure,” Bucky replied, and Steve all but bolted into the kitchen, leaving a yawning Bucky on the couch.

As he reached for the freezer door and took a breath to compose himself he gripped the stainless steel handle harder and thunked his head against it. “Fuck,” he murmured, swallowing hard. This was going to be a lot harder than he realized. Bucky still doesn’t really know him, of course he doesn’t. He’s always been a little bit distant with Steve, almost as though Bucky was scared of opening up.

Steve wished he knew how to fix it. He wished he knew how to instantly make Bucky better, whatever that looked like. But more than anything, he hoped he could have a part of Bucky’s life, his new life, whatever part he could play. Til the end of the line, they’d always said, for sick or for poorer, they’d promised.

When he came back with a pint and two spoons, Bucky’s head was resting on the back of the couch.

“Oh,” Steve frowned, but remembered it was a long, hard day for Bucky. The days of a spirited husband were apparently gone too.

Steve knew he was going to have to learn things about Bucky he didn’t know, but this was entirely different. This was like meeting someone new, who looked just like his husband. At least that’s sure as hell how it felt.

With a soft smile, Steve set aside the ice cream. He hesitated, not sure if this was a great idea, but it just seemed right. He shifted over to the couch. 

“Buck, c’mon,” he murmured, hesitating again just a moment before wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

It woke him slightly, but Bucky just curled his arms about Steve’s neck. Just like he always did. Bucky falling asleep on the couch had always been a common occurrence. “Jus’ carry me,” Bucky slurred, like he always did, and Steve’s eyes instantly welled up.

“Always, Bucky, always,” he murmured, lifting him up into his arms and heading for the stairs. The tears quietly made their way down Steve’s cheeks, trying to turn his head into his arm but not wanting to jostle Bucky too much. 

It wasn’t too long before Steve had him stripped down and in bed. After Steve walked into the bathroom while Bucky was showering at the rehab clinic, they decided to discuss some boundaries. Bucky had stated he wasn't comfortable around Steve naked, but didn’t mind being around him in his underwear. Steve wasn’t concerned he’d crossed any lines, but he still tried not to look.

“Goodnight, baby,” he swallowed hard and ignored the urge to kiss him, anywhere. As he turned to leave, Bucky reached out, grabbing his wrist. 

“Thank ya’ Steve,” he mumbled, pushing hair out of his face and looking up at him with soft eyes, a little more awake now.

Steve nodded and gave him a terse smile. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

\--

Tossing and turning, Steve finally woke up five minutes before his alarm was set to go off. His higher brain functioning wouldn’t come online until after his run, which he shared with his best friend, Sam Wilson. They met in college, and, until the accident, no one had known him better than Bucky, except maybe Sam. At a college rally, Sam accidentally spilled his coke all over Steve, and the bromance only grew from there . Steve got a fresh shirt, and a new friend out of the deal so he wasn’t too bummed about the experience. 

They were more or less inseparable, to the point where Bucky had had to sit him down and explain to Steve that while he wasn’t jealous, or upset, he was feeling somewhat neglected. When Steve shamefully explained this to Sam, the fellow student simply smacked him upside the back of the head. “Take care of your man, Steve, don’t be like that,” he’d advised. Steve had given him a lazy salute and at the first chance he’d gotten, he’d taken Bucky to bed to make it up to him.

“So first day. First night. How’d it go?”

Steve was bent over, stretching, but he knew Sam wouldn’t miss the flinch across his face.

“That bad,” Sam asked, hands on his hips as he bent this way and that to prepare for their run.

“Pretty much,” Steve roughed out. “It wasn’t...it wasn’t _bad_.” Steve thought back to the previous night. Pizza and Star Wars wasn’t a terrible...way to spend an evening.

“I carried him to bed, you know, like I used to.” They nodded at each other before they started their run. They were practiced at carrying on a conversation at a brisk jog. Sam’s brows lifted.

“Yeah? He let you?” Sam’s query was fair. 

“He did what he always used to do.” Steve said at length. Sam actually stopped them. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up.” Sam’s hand was on Steve’s shoulder. “You can’t just lay that on me like I’m not going to notice. He wrapped his arms around you and told you to carry him?”

Steve and Sam shared everything.

“I...yeah, that’s what happened.” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes a moment, sucking in a sharp breath. “C’mon,” Steve’s smile was plaintive and he tilted his head, indicating he wanted to start the run back up. Sam’s forehead furrowed, but he nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” he relented. It was another block before the conversation picked back up.

“Is he remembering more,” Sam asked as though he was unable to handle the silence. Or unable to handle not knowing everything that had happened. 

“No, it's more like, he’ll do something that looks like himself, to me, and not realize he’s doing it.”

“That’s almost worse,” Sam huffed a laugh. Steve nodded in agreement.

“My scale of good to bad is getting completely redone, trust me,” Steve snorted.

“You know, you don’t have to--”

“Sam, no. Don’t even go there with me. Again. He’s my husband, and until he doesn’t want to be anymore, that’s...I made vows; Promises, to him. I meant them.” Steve had to speak evenly as they jogged, but his message was clear. Sam wasn’t done needling him, though.

“This is a tough question, but I gotta ask. Are you still in love with him, or are you just in love with the memory of him?”

Steve slowed to a stop. His hands stuck above his hips and he was squinting slightly. “I know you’re trying to help, Sam, but please don’t belittle who we are. What we have. Bucky’s in there, I’ve seen it, he knows me, he just can’t find his way back to me right now. And when he does, I gotta be there where he is, okay?” Sam held up his hands at that.

“Got it. Still in love with him.” Sam laughed a bit and Steve did too. “I hate seeing what this does to you, man, that’s all,” he explained with an apologetic purse to his lips.

Steve laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, propelling him back down the sidewalk. “We’ll make it. We’re Barneses, we can survive anything.”

It was the truth that had been his guiding light for years, and Steve knew he could trust it implicitly. No matter what, he and Bucky would work together through this curveball that had been thrown at them, and they’d come out better and all the stronger for it.

All Steve had to do was keep one foot in front of the other, and not fuck it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @buffyscribbles


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky starts to settle in, and we meet Natasha briefly. Steve is a still a hot mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick, all my love to chicklette for her continued support, beta skills, and for sticking by me when I needed it the most. You're the best, bblove.

It was day three, and the morning was quiet and still. Bucky had been taking his time acclimating to the new environment well and Steve didn’t want to disturb him. He was as silent as possible making his coffee, and leaned against the counter opposite of the machine with bleary eyes and slumped shoulders, crossing his arms. 

Things could be worse. Really. Bucky was home, and safe. His brain damage was minimal and the doctors were still optimistic he’d regain his memories. It was too easy to be ‘glass half empty’ about the hand they’d been dealt, though. 

Regardless, Steve wasn’t awake until he’d had his first cup of coffee. Serious thinking could wait until later. 

He texted Sam that he was going to skip their morning run as he worked on his coffee. He flipped through the news apps on his phone, felt his head getting unfuzzy, and continued his morning routine.

Bucky didn’t come out of his room, so Steve assumed he was asleep as he hopped in the shower and got ready for his day. If he accomplished one thing today, it was talking to Natasha and hoping to find some support with her, and maybe offer her some too.

He, Natasha, and Bucky had all gone to highschool together. They’d been fast friends, but Bucky and Natasha had always had a special bond. They took Russian together and now spoke it endlessly with one another (that was something Steve wanted to remember to ask Bucky; did he remember Russian?), and Bucky was always Nat’s number one fan when it came to her amateur ballet career. 

When that had fallen through, and Bucky had graduated Cornell with no real life plans, they moved back home to White Plains and decided to go into business. The Red Room was a huge success, and three years later it was still going strong.

Since the accident, Natasha had taken on the extra workload with a smile and broad shoulders. Even though Bucky didn’t have a single memory of her. 

Steve tried to be as sympathetic as he could, and it wasn’t hard. Natasha, strong confident Natasha, had broken down in tears in Steve’s arms when Bucky looked at her with wary eyes; a reaction to a stranger.

She hadn’t given up on him, of course not, but it was painful to be around Bucky. It was like talking to a stranger. Steve understood that all too well, but he was grateful that Bucky trusted him enough to come home with him. Natasha didn’t even have that much.

Showered and dressed, Steve headed over to Back to Black. It was early, but it was delivery day, so he knew Nat would be there. Still, he called her on his way.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Nat.” A brief pause, then a sigh.

“Hey,” she responded.

Steve wrung his hand over the steering wheel, suddenly anxious. Even after all these years, Natasha was still a little intimidating.

“I’m headed over right now, I need to talk to you,” he said.

Natasha was quick to reply. “Is Bucky okay?”

“What? Oh yeah, he’s okay. He had been sleeping in the guest room, I don’t think he was up when I left,” he trailed off. “I’ll be over there in just a few,” Steve said. Natasha said goodbye and the call disconnected.

The bar was sleek, almost trendy looking. They specialized in craft cocktails, but had a good selection of local beers on tap. It was always a little jarring to experience in daylight, but it was a good hang out space.

Steve had used his key to let himself in, calling for Natasha.

“Back here,” she shouted from the direction of the office. The space was almost all Natasha as Bucky tended to work in his home office. He kept things going, cataloging the inventories the staff did, ordering, crunching numbers and paying bills. Natasha was more hands on, working the bar, chatting with customers, and helping the staff when things got crazy.

Steve leaned against the door jamb. Natasha’s back was to him, hunched over some invoices and receipts. “Hey,” he said quietly so as not to startle her.

The redhead turned in her chair, hair pin straight and falling just past her shoulders. “Hey yourself,” she said, quirking a smile.

Steve nearly deflated, hanging his head. Being around someone he trusted as much as he trusted Natasha, he didn’t have to pretend everything was fine...which, frankly, is what he’d been doing with Bucky.

Natasha read him like a book and got up, enfolding him in a hug. “Hey, I’m here,” she said, rubbing her hand over his back and patting his shoulder before pulling back. “Tell me,” Nat murmured, hands on his biceps for a moment before sitting back down.

“He seems to be adjusting well,” Steve trailed off. “I don’t think I am.”

“How so?”

Steve recounted the meatloaf that didn’t get made, and Bucky seeming to “come back” just long enough ask Steve to carry him off to bed. Natasha looked heartbroken.

“Oh god, Steve. Are you sure this is a good idea,” she immediately said, concerned. “Not because of him, but for you. This has been...a nightmare for you,” Natasha pointed out as tactfully as she could.

Steve just shrugged, too tired to get his hackles raised. “It has been, but when you...well, when I marry someone I mean it,” he insisted. Natasha nodded, smirking, and lightly punched his shoulder. 

“You’re the most stubborn person I know.” She sighed and threw up her hands. “But this is just going to get worse.”

Steve shook his head. “He’s worth it, Nat,” he said and slid his hands into his pockets. “I think he’s going to get bored very quickly,” Steve laughed softly, tugging at his bottom lip.

“How’s his stress levels doing?”

Steve gave a shrug. “It's hard to say. I think they did a good job teaching him to take things at his own pace. He sleeps a lot. Which is probably good, I read that it’ll give the brain time to heal.”

“What if we had a little get together,” Natasha suggested, tone careful.

“Get together,” Steve warily echoed.

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, maybe just me, Sam and Riley?”

Steve swallowed, leaning against the door again. “I...yeah? I mean, I’m not sure how he’d react to meeting new people but doctor Banner told me that going back to how his life was for a while might help.”

At that, Natasha grinned. “See there you go. We can grill, get to know this new Bucky, give him a chance to feel normal.”

Laughing a little, Steve shook his head. “Because that’s what we are; normal,” he teased. Natasha rolled her eyes at him. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

_Steve had an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. It was July 4th, his birthday, when he, Bucky, and Nat traditionally did their own fireworks in the cul de sac in front of Bucky’s childhood home in White Plains, New York. They had just finished their sophomore year in college._

_“So when are these newbies showing up,” Nat groused, organizing this year's collection of fireworks so the best ones were last._

_“Whenever they want,” Bucky laughed, kissing Steve’s cheek. Steve looked down at him with the same gentle affection he’d been looking at him with since the first day they’d met._

_Natasha made gagging noises. “You two are always so damn gross,” she teased. Bucky just shrugged, kissed Steve again, and went to help with the fireworks._

_Sam went to school with Steve at Indiana University, while Bucky and Riley went to Cornell. Steve had applied at a number of schools in the area, but when Indiana University offered a full scholarship, he couldn’t turn down the opportunity. Bucky tried to follow, but he hadn’t made the cut at Steve’s school. They were highschool sweethearts, now stuck doing long distance during semesters but they were doing better at it than they thought they would. Having amazing new friends definitely helped with that._

_Sam and Riley had both agreed to spend fourth of July in White Plains, where Buck Steve and Natasha were from, and shared a hotel room to cut costs since there was no room at anyone’s place. That’s what Bucky and Steve get for inviting them to their hometown last minute._

_A taxi pulled up and they emerged. Bucky gave Riley a wave, and everyone stopped for introductions._

_“It's so nice to meet the great Bucky Barnes,” Sam exclaimed with a grin. Bucky’s eyebrows shot up and he looked over at Steve, who was blushing and looking down, stuffing his hands in his pockets._

_“Uh huh is that so,” Bucky laughed, but gave Sam a handshake, who pulled him into a light bro-hug._

_“That is so,” Sam laughed._

_As they talked, the group clicked immediately. Sam and Riley couldn’t keep their eyes off each other though, and Steve gently took Bucky’s hand, a smile perched on his lips._

\--

Steve unlocked the front door and stepped inside, digging out his wallet and tossing it into the basket on the table next to the door. Bucky’s wallet and set of keys were in there, too, so Steve assumed Bucky was home. Not that he’d expressed any interest in going out. Sighing, Steve ran a hand through his hair and down his face, going into the kitchen.

There was Bucky, in boxers and a tank top, cooking. Steve’s heart flipped, but he cleared his throat softly to announce his presence and to not startle him.

“Morning,” Bucky said before Steve could. “Do you um, are you hungry? I made too much on accident,” he explained.

Steve bit his lip, and he could feel the hope in his own gaze. For just a moment, Steve could pretend everything was okay again.

Except he couldn’t step forward, wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist, and kiss his husband senseless. 

“You were gone really early,” Bucky said, and Steve suddenly remembered he hadn’t left a note or text or _anything_.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that Buck,” he replied and finally did step forward, just to hip check the counter and lean there, putting himself in Bucky’s peripheral vision.

“It's okay. I’m a big boy,” Bucky looked up and smiled at Steve, before returning to the scrambled eggs. “I still can’t cook though,” he laughed softly, and tucked some chin length hair back behind his ear.

If Steve hadn’t been in love before, he’d be falling all over again. “You’ve always made wonderful scrambled eggs,” he pointed out. Bucky’s eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” came Steve’s response, just allowing himself to feel like he could be in Bucky’s presence and just enjoy it again. “You’d make it all the time for me because that’s all you can cook.” Steve paused, considered, and charged ahead. “Sometimes in bed,” Steve said softly.

Bucky looked over, and while there was no recognition in his eyes, there was a bit of mirth. “I’d make the eggs in bed, huh?” Steve rolled his eyes and lightly smacked his shoulder, pushing away from the counter.

“You know what I mean, jerk.”

Bucky laughed at that, warm and loud. “Were you always such a punk?”

He just smiled. “Yep.” Steve's breath caught, but he let it go. He was getting used to his heart cracking wide open on a moment's notice.

\--

They sat down to breakfast. Steve had insisted on making the bacon and toast, and pouring the orange juice. Bucky seemed to have settled, he was calm and only a little bit distant, which is what Steve had grown used to.

“I can help,” he protested but Steve shook his head.

“No it's okay Buck, let me do this for you,” he said. The look Bucky gave him was hard to read, but he finally flitted a smile over his lips and nodded.

This was their first sit down meal. Where they were supposed to chat, Steve knew, like any ‘normal couple’. They definitely weren’t that anymore, and Bucky was quick to speak up as he always was.

“So, what do you do,” Bucky asked. Steve frowned. How had that not come up over the weeks? Steve was sure he’d told Bucky, or that Bucky had found out somehow.

“I’m an artist. Graphic design, sketches, oils paints, some sculpture work some time but we...we used to pay for a space for me at an artist co-op but I didn’t use the space as much as we thought I would,” Steve explained.

Bucky stared at him a second. “Huh. I was expecting firefighter,” he said, and Steve nearly choked on his food.

He laughed, though. “I like to keep fit,” he protested, grinning. Bucky grinned right back, but didn’t say anything more on the subject.

“You have a workspace here, then,” Bucky asked curiously. Steve’s mind flashed back to the few memories he had of Bucky posing nude for him. He sighed softly, a fond smile on his face.

“Yeah, Buck, I do,” he said. Bucky frowned, perceptive as ever.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky looked genuinely confused, and concerned.

“Its nothing,” Steve was quick to say. Bucky wasn’t having it, but his voice was gentle.

“Is it about me?” That got a nod from Steve, who sighed quietly.

“Yeah, you would pose for me, sometimes,” he murmured, uncharacteristically shy. Bucky thinned his lips.

“I’m...I’m sorry. It's just that they tell me that familiarizing myself with my old life, even if I don’t remember or it doesn’t seem important, might help trigger the memories.” At that Bucky shrugged. “But I know they...I’ve made peace with the idea that they might never return. I want to live my life _now_ ,” Bucky said. Steve was just overjoyed that he was opening up to him. But he didn’t have enough confidence to ask about their relationship. Not yet. It hadn’t even been a week yet.

“That makes sense. You can’t live in the past, but you especially shouldn’t try to live in a past you don’t remember,” Steve said, because ultimately he wanted to be Bucky’s biggest supporter. And maybe they could have something, even if Bucky never remembers him. He knows him now, and that meant they had a second chance to fall for eachother.

Steve couldn’t bear to think of it any other way.

“Exactly,” Bucky smiled between bites. “So, what do _I_ do,” he asked, sipping his orange juice.

“You own a swanky bar with Natasha.” Bucky stared at him. 

“Really?”

“Yep.” Steve laughed. “What, why is that so surprising?”

“I don’t know I just thought something more like….computer hacker or hell even a writer,” Bucky laughed, then shrugged. “Alright, well, that’s something.” 

Steve smiled. God, Bucky was adorable sometimes. His heart contracted in his chest, and fuck if it didn’t feel like falling in love all over again.

“With Natasha. The redhead,” Bucky asked. Steve confirmed. “Who I don’t know,” he recalled.

Steve winced. It was a _very_ sore spot for Natasha. “Yeah, that’s her. She’s your best friend since high school,” he said, gently trying to jog his memory. The look of concentration on Bucky’s face told Steve he was trying hard to recall anything. Bucky blinked and his brows unfurrowed, slowly shaking his head. “I just remember you telling me that when she’d come to visit me. It was only once, right?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah it….we’ve all had a hard time, Buck, I’m not going to sugar coat it for you, you always hated that. But Natasha...just be gentle with her. She’s strong as a rock, and she shows only what she wants the world to see, but she’s having a rough time with it,” Steve explained. He didn’t want to stress Bucky out, but he needed to help ease him back into his life. 

“Speaking of Natasha, I actually went to see her this morning,” Steve had a forkful of eggs close to his mouth but kept talking, waiting to take the bite. “She’s going to come over later and get some things out of your office, if that’s okay,” he finally took the bite.

“Oh, right, yeah that’s obviously fine,” he said, a little dazed. Bucky had a lot to process but he seemed to be cycling through it well. 

“And we had an idea...the doctors want you to reintegrate yourself into your normal life and routine, right,” he asked. Bucky nodded, finishing his breakfast. “So we were thinking, me and Nat, to have some people over for dinner. Just Natasha, Sam, and his husband,” Steve said. Bucky nodded slowly. “Real low key, just some grilled hotdogs and a movie, and we’ll see how that goes?”

Bucky considered it for a few moments. “These are people you trust. We….I know them well,” he asked.

“Absolutely. These are good people, Buck, they love you,” Steve assured. Bucky smiled wanly and nodded. 

“Alright, yeah, let’s try it.” Bucky smiled and Steve felt a relief he hadn’t been expecting.

“That’s great, Buck, they’re going to be overjoyed to get to see you again.” Steve felt a tension in his chest ease just a little bit. Selfishly, and he would never say this to anyone, he was relieved to have other people to interact with Bucky. On his own, even just after a few days, it was getting to be very emotionally trying. He loved Bucky more than he thought possible after this, but Steve needed the support too.

“So do I get to see those nudes of me?”

\--

Steve brought Bucky upstairs to the studio. The attic had been converted into a large workspace for Steve. He dabbled in a few different mediums, and his studio was comprised of several spaces for him to work. To the left of the stairs was a small space with two bay windows and a small easel set up. Blank canvases rested on the floor and there was an industrial sink tucked neatly in the corner. The right side of the space looked more like an office with a computer sat in a desk, an artist's table, and a sofa and coffee table with a large tablet resting on it. Acrylic paint tubes lined the wall in a (mostly) neat, slatted organizer, though there were paints and pencil cups spread throughout the space. The necessary chemicals that went with his oils were neatly lined up beneath a window, brushes and various palettes collected in a corner near a work in progress. A stack of old phone books, high to Steve’s hip, was teetering against another corner.

Steve gestured at the mid-sized canvas set up where his oils were. “That’s all I’ve got going at the moment,” he explained, biting his lip. It was hard not to think of the way the almost magical (granted he was biased) environment had a hand in some of his favorite memories of his husband. 

It was a vulnerable space for Steve to share, and while he would happily do it with Bucky, it felt brand new and raw. 

Steve watched as Bucky considered his work. It was dark, almost all blacks and purples, a real departure from his typical style. But this project was just for himself, his own therapy to push through the vulgarity of life. It was the type of piece Bucky would’ve hated.

“It needs some white,” Bucky startled him, and Steve frowned.

“What?” 

“It needs some white,” he repeated patiently, turning and giving Steve a bit of a teasing smile. Steve’s heart skipped. “Otherwise its...I can’t figure it out. You’re the artist, I just...yeah. It needs some white,” Bucky’d continued even as Steve moved to the wall without thought.

It was just about habit to follow through with one of Bucky’s suggestions. Bucky graciously stepped away as Steve readied the paint. He rustled through the brushes until he found the one he needed for what he was picturing. Broad strokes and splatters combined as a shock against the dark.

“Exactly,” Bucky laughed, and Steve turned to give him a smile. Bucky smiled back and tucked some hair behind his ear and Steve forced himself to look away. He didn’t want to make things awkward with his arousal, so he focused on painting for a minute.

“Do I come up here a lot,” Bucky asked, and Steve shrugged, chewing at the end of his brush as he considered the changes Bucky had inspired.

“Sometimes. It depends I guess. You always seemed to know when I was working on something challenging, usually you left me alone when I really needed to concentrate. Which was maybe half the time,” Steve hunted around for the masking tape, now, getting somewhat distracted.

“That makes sense,” Bucky allowed, and his tone was hesitant. “Did you ever draw me?” The question was quiet. “I...I understand if it's too personal I’m just...curious.”

Steve slowly closed the drawer he’d been routing through. “Yes,” he murmured, swallowing hard.

_“Buck, c’mon, don’t make me laugh!” Steve was laughing as Bucky made deliberately funny faces._

_The mirth didn’t entirely match the scene. Steve had been teaching himself shibari ropes and had finally asked Bucky if he could try it on him. He'd stumbled onto a photograph of someone in the ropes, and was taken with the artistry of it. The idea of drawing Bucky, tied up and laid open like that was almost more than he could handle_

_Of course, Bucky couldn’t help but make the process of a charcoal sketch as difficult as possible. “I’m not doing anything Stevie, how can I?” Bucky lifted his arms up, tied beautifully from wrist to shoulder. He tossed Steve a wink, who just rolled his eyes._

_He set his charcoals and drawing pad aside, crossing the room and planting a smoldering kiss on Bucky’s lips. “C’mon, muse, behave,” he purred, reaching down to pinch Bucky’s bare ass._

_Bucky groaned immediately and nosed against his jaw. “Well when you ask so nicely,” he murmured, tugging on Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth._

_Groaning, Steve tugged the catch on the ropes and they dissolved off his arms and into Bucky’s lap. Steve pushed his husband back and kissed him as passionately as he could. An hour later, Bucky was happy to return to his pose, flushed and still panting._

Bucky gave Steve a guarded look almost as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask what he wanted to ask. Steve waited patiently, even though Bucky had already inquired downstairs.

“Can I see some,” came the obvious question, and Steve knew he couldn’t deny Bucky anything. He nodded.

“Sure, of course Buck,” he murmured. Steve went over to a filing cabinet, where one drawer was filled with journals and sketch pads. There was a couple there were exclusively Bucky, the most recent ones he had. Some of his earliest attempts to sketch, thank god lost to time, had been of Bucky but these were skilled, almost photographic.

“Oh...Steve you’re,” Bucky stopped himself, and Steve gave a nervous laugh.

“Talented?”

“In love.”

They spoke at the same time, and Steve blinked in surprise. “Very much so,” he whispered, but didn’t look down. The doctors wanted Bucky to attempt to insert himself back into his life as possible? That included Steve’s love for him.

It visibly made Bucky uncomfortable, watching as Bucky looked down and away, sketchbook open to a drawing of Bucky naked, bound to a chair with intricate knots, legs spread and hard as a rock.

“Thank you for letting me see,” he said at length, closing the sketch book and handing it to Steve. “I think I...need some air,” Bucky said. 

Steve nodded, knowing his expression was pinched but unable to do anything about it. “Yeah, we have a back deck and some loungers,” he explained and Bucky nodded, already walking towards the door.

“I’ll figure it out. Thanks,” he said, just over his shoulder, before exiting.

Steve sighed and stuck his hands on his hips, looking to the side. “Damnit.”

\--

There was, actually, work for Steve to be doing. He had projects that he hadn’t started but after Bucky more or less walking out of him, Steve didn’t have the heart to go back to his oils. So he picked up his wacom tablet and started the sketches for a comic book he was trying to help get off the ground.

The ease and familiarity of the process of artistic expression helped to lift Steve’s glum mood. After a couple hours of work, he cleaned up a little bit.

He found Bucky downstairs, outside, in one of the padded loungers on the wooden deck. Steve fidgeted in the doorway.

“Hey Buck,” he greeted. 

Bucky looked up, resting the Grisham novel he was reading on his chest, and offered a friendly smile. “Hey yourself,” he responded.

Steve cleared his throat. “Um, I’m going to make dinner tonight, I was wondering if you still liked enchiladas,” he said with an equally friendly smile. Steve didn’t want a repeat of ‘oops I don’t like that anymore’. 

“They sound good, so I guess so,” Bucky winked, then picked up his book again. Steve was sure he was going to melt right to the floor.

“Um, okay great,” he said, hastily closing the door. Bucky seemed to be settling into the house, into the situation, and as he settled he started acting more like himself.

For Steve it was sweet torture. Was it a sign, a premonition that his husband was going to start getting more memories back?

In any case, Steve had to focus on the small picture so that he didn’t screw something up and either make it worse, or push Bucky away.

\--

Steve headed upstairs to do some more work on the comic project. He got lost in his craft for a while, and before he knew it it had been four hours.

He yawned, stretched, and rotated his body from side to side to get the kinks out of his spine. Working on a project he really felt like he was making good progress on always rejuvenated him. The mental cobwebs felt swept away, and he had a general sense of positivity about him. Not hurting was knowing Bucky was downstairs.

Bucky, with his chin length hair and steel blue eyes and perfect smile. Sure, Bucky didn’t remember him, but the man still trusted him; some part of his husband was still in there. He just had to wait it out and do what he could to help him get his memories back.

Even if that was showing him risque sketches from a previous life that Steve knew he’d probably never get back again. This experience was testing them, testing him, but he had faith. He had faith in people, individuals, and so far that faith hadn’t let him down yet.

And if he had faith in anyone, it was Bucky.

Returning downstairs, he found Bucky asleep on the lounger. Steve smiled and gently picked up his book, setting it aside. He decided to let Bucky sleep where he was after quickly checking the weather to make sure it wasn’t going to rain soon.

It was a while before dinner time but Steve decided to prep the enchiladas. And, it gave him the opportunity to give Sam a call about Natasha’s idea. Throwing a small get together would hopefully be a good thing but Steve definitely wanted his best friend’s input.

He called Sam, hearing it ring a few times.

“Hello?”

“Hi, its me,” Steve greeted.

“Hey man what’s up?” It wasn’t often Steve called, though since the accident it was a little more common than it had been before.

“Hey uh, so I went over to the bar early this morning,” he started. Steve could just about see Sam’s raised brows, wondering what Steve was getting at. “Natasha had an idea, wanted to know what you thought.”

Mystery solved, Sam replied, “Oh, okay man. What’s this big idea?”

“Well, you know how the doctors all say to have Bucky’s life return to normal and eventually the idea is he’ll remember,” Steve said. Sam ‘mm’d. “Natasha thought having a small get together would be a good idea. Her, you and Riley. I’ll make a roast or something, I’ll see if Bucky remembers that he bakes,” he trailed off.

“Man, I don’t know. That’s a lot to put on him at once, and I know you, you’re going to spend the whole time worrying over him.”

“Well...yeah, I want him to get better.” There was a pregnant pause.

“Steve, have you thought at all about the idea that Bucky might never get his memories back,” Sam pointed out, gentle but firm. Sam didn’t sugar coat things for his best friend.

“I know, it’s possible, it's 50/50,” Steve sighed in the middle of measuring out rice, pausing in the kitchen. “But he just got home, it’s barely been half a week. And he…” Steve sighed. “I think he might’ve remembered something earlier, I could be wrong.” It was something that had been percolating in the back of his mind as he’d worked on his wacom.

“Oh yeah?”

“I showed him a sketch. From, uh, my _private_ collection.”

“Awh hell Steve why did you go and do that?”

“He asked! I’m not going to say no to that Sam. It could help.”

“Or it could terrify the hell out of him. You’ve shown me some of that, none of it’s subtle,” Sam argued. Steve ran his hand through his hair. 

“I know, but he asked. If we could get back to why I called,” Steve tried to redirect, voice trailing off. Sam just laughed.

“Alright, alright big guy, I won’t argue. If you want to do it, let’s do it, okay? Maybe you’re right and it will jog something, or at least be a pleasant time,” Sam said. “Does he still not remember Nat,” he asked.

Steve shook his head. “No, no, and nothing more about me either, as far as I know. I don’t think he’d keep anything to himself but even if he is, that’s perfectly fine. This is a lot, he’s sleeping a ton, and slowly coming out of his shell. I don’t want to push him.”

Sam hummed again. “Are you taking care of yourself, Steve? I know how you are, you didn’t sleep for three days once because Bucky had the flu,” he pointed out. Steve laughed softly.

“And I learned from that mistake, didn’t I,” he counted. Sam laughed.

“Okay, I get it,” Sam replied. “Just don’t do anything stupid okay?”

“How can I? You’re the one with all the stupid in this friendship,” Steve teased. He started in on making dinner again.

“Let’s do this shindig. Let’s say Sunday, I know Nat won’t be able to do Saturday,” Sam said. “I’ll coordinate it all you gotta do is cook, okay?” 

Steve nodded again. “Yeah okay. Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, partner.” The line disconnected and Steve set the phone aside without pulling up any music, choosing to cook in the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up? Party time.


	4. DELAY

Just a quick note to let readers know the next installment will be delayed due to Hurricane Irma. Thanks for your patience! :) - Buffy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm outlining this and writing as I go! Updates as I can write them. If you have prompts, ideas, head cannons, anything like that, please leave a comment! I just might write it :)
> 
> If you do the tumblr thing, you can find me @buffyscribbles


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